Now Darkness Falls
by luvlegolotz aka AshleyD
Summary: Gollum's personal account of finding the Ring of Power...and what he had to do to get it.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they all belong to Tolkien. The song, called "Gollum's Song" was written by Howard Shore, Fan Walsh, and performed by Emiliana Torrini. You can hear this song playing during the credits of The Two Towers. This is Gollum's account of the day he found his precious. Lots of research done, mostly from "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien and my Tolkien dictionary and encyclopedia. Please, read and review! New chapter will be up soon.  
  
  
  
Only he could really make me mad. My angry dreams woke me this morning, dreaming of him who had haunted my dreams more and more. I turned towards my precious.  
  
My love would never flinch at my sight, my precious, just seemingly stares back unblinkingly. Some days when I woke, my hatefulness stabbed at my heart and the bitterness would consume me.  
  
This was one of those days.  
  
I woke up on my rock island in the middle of a lake, which was wide, deep, and deadly cold. Darkness engulfed me, which was as I liked it. Sun and warmth despised me, as I despised it. The Misty Mountains blocked the light from me; with my only love to keep me company.  
  
I've lost track of the years I have taken refuge from my former life, which I barely remember. But one day sticks out in my mind, and that one day is what conjures that hatred.  
  
"How issss my precioussss?" I asked my love; gently stroking it's beautiful sparkling edge. It fascinated me, always fascinated me to no end. It was so beautiful, so round, so perfect in anyway.  
  
"You hungry, my preciousss?" And with that question I leaped into my boat with my love. It sat across from me as I started to paddle the boat with my large feet. I stopped and stared at them awhile, slowly reminding me of the past I once led. A hobbit, or river folk we were known. A member of the tribe of the Stoors. The memories flooded back to me, making me hiss and moan. Thinking about the past brought the idea of light and sun.  
  
"Why does it hisss, Smeagol? Why does it moan?" I asked out loud.  
  
"Because memories hurts us." I moaned back, always talking to myself because there was no one to talk to.  
  
"Memories of that day, yesssss." I hissed back to myself. "Memoriessss of him, who wouldn't share my preciousssss. Who stole it from us, he did."  
  
"Tell it to us again, Smeagol. Tell ussss of your bravery and strength once again." I begged out loud to myself.  
  
"No." I moaned, watching the little fish with hungry big round pale eyes.  
  
"The precioussss loves to hear the story, it does." I begged.  
  
"What about breakfastes?" I asked out loud, avoiding the story telling.  
  
"Breakfastes can be nice, soft goblin if Smeagol tellsss usss. gollum, gollum." I bribed myself.  
  
I lost the fight with myself and peered at my precious with love. "They day I found you, my precioussss." I hissed, thinking of the day when I did.  
  
He always knew how to make me mad. Every day he would do something else to anger me, but we were still best friends, me and Deagol. Maybe it was because neither of us was very well liked in our families, but we spent our time together all the time. We both lived in little holes in Gladden Fields, on the shores of Gladden River. The elves to the south of us from Lothlorien called our river Sir Ninglor. Back then I used to be fascinated by the elves, stopping and staring every time I got the chance to gaze at one. Now I probably wouldn't recognize one.  
  
My grandmother would tell me the stories of how our people came to reside near Gladden River, about the war in Eridor to the West of the Misty Mountains. In the year 1409 of the Third Age, my ancestors fled Eastward across the mountains and settled on the banks of Gladden. They made a living by fishing among the golden flowers of the Gladden River.  
  
"If only they could see us now preciousss. gollum, gollum." I hushed myself and continued with the story.  
  
Golden like my precious. My precioussssss.  
  
I woke up that certain day feeling excited and happy. It was my twenty- fifth birthday. I hadn't come of age yet, but it was a birthday nonetheless. I rolled over to cuddle back in my pillows until suddenly a bucket of water was emptied unto my head.  
  
I sputtered and sat up. "Who did that?" I demanded.  
  
I heard a familiar giggling coming from the opposite side of the bed. "Deagol!" I screamed, leaping out of bed and after my friend. "I'm going to kill you!"  
  
He just laughed and ran out of the room, with me in close pursuit. I was stopped suddenly by my grandmother. "Happy Birthday, Smeagol." She addressed me, instead of the normal good morning. My grandmother was a stout hobbit, with always a frown etched into her face. Just one look at her made everyone scowl. She was a cross hobbit, and a strict one at that.  
  
"Thank you, grandmother." I addressed her formally. I tried to run out of her grasp, but she anticipated what I was going to do.  
  
"Breakfast, for my little hobbit." She shoved me a little roughly towards the table. "Clear the table and serve yourself. I have to feed the hogs." I heard the door bang.  
  
Just like every morning. I shrugged my shoulders and went to the stove, serving myself up some bacon and eggs, with nice juicy sausages.  
  
"How Smeagol's stomach growls for grandma's good food." I mocked myself.  
  
Ignoring myself, I continued.  
  
I was always an outsider of Stoor society, because of my disobedient and sometimes strange behavior. I didn't mind, I didn't want to be exactly like everyone else. But my parents were dead and my grandmother was trying to raise me. And my grandmother didn't appreciate me being different. I looked at her as someone who went out of her way to oppress me. As a monarch that couldn't be challenged.  
  
Sometimes I wished I could just get away from all of this.  
  
"Smeagol!" I heard hissing from the window. I leaped up from the breakfast table and peeked out of the window.  
  
Deagol was standing there, looking excited. "Want to go to the River Anduin with me today?"  
  
"Sure!" I said excitedly. "Let me finish my breakfast, then pack a second breakfast, and I'll be right out." I promised, then went back to the table.  
  
  
  
My grandmother was standing there.  
  
"You will not leave." she ordered. "I do not want you romping around with that Deagol boy when you could be doing chores around this house."  
  
"But grandma, its my birthday!" I pointed out.  
  
"All the more reason to do it, my dear." She sneered and pointed to the floor. "It needs washing, and so do the dishes. The sitting room needs dusting, and your bed needs to be made. You have a party tonight." She said and left through the front door.  
  
I made sure she was gone and went back to the window. "I'm coming." I said. "Meet me around back." Deagol nodded and ran around back.  
  
I grabbed the rest of my breakfast that I could take with me and rolled it in a piece of cloth. I ran back to my bedroom and threw on a regular shirt instead of my nightshirt and pulled up my pants, securing the suspenders. Going barefoot, like all hobbits do, I leapt out of my window and landed next to Deagol.  
  
"I brought lots of food." He said, holding up a basket with a cloth sticking out of it.  
  
"And I brought the rest of my breakfast." I grinned and finished the sausage greedily.  
  
"Let's go!" Deagol urged, pulling at my arm.  
  
"Just so my grandma doesn't see me." I said, looking around.  
  
"Let's go through the woods." Deagol whispered, a glint of mischief in his eyes. We both made for the woods behind my hobbit hole, and we made it.  
  
"Off to Anduin!" Deagol declared, following the river Gladden. Gladden was a small tributary to Anduin. I followed him eagerly; ready for the next big adventure Deagol and I were going to have. Little did I know it would be our last.  
  
"Oh, Smeagol! What is next? gollum." I asked myself, urging to go on with the story.  
  
I pulled my knees up to my chin, shivering. I knew what came next, and it always haunted me. Until I looked at my precious. Everything was all right when I had my precioussssss beside me.  
  
Everything. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they all belong to Tolkien. The song, called "Gollum's Song" was written by Howard Shore, Fan Walsh, and performed by Emiliana Torrini. You can hear this song playing during the credits of The Two Towers. This is Gollum's account of the day he found his precious. Lots of research done, mostly from "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien and my Tolkien dictionary and encyclopedia. Please, read and review! New chapter will be up soon.  
  
  
  
We trudged through the trees behind my hole in Gladden Field, getting tired as the hot summer sun burned from above.  
  
"Think we are far enough away from my house to get out of these woods and follow the river closer?" I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead.  
  
Deagol peeked out of the trees behind us. "Yup. Can't even see your house from here, Gollum." He used my nickname the Stoors gave me, probably from the swallowing noise I made in my throat sometimes. My grandmother always reprimanded me when I did it, saying it wasn't polite, but I started to keep it up just because it annoyed her. I didn't like it when he used it on me though, and he knew it. He was trying to upset me. Again.  
  
"Great." I said, ignoring his use of my nickname and broke free from the trees and felt the wonderful breeze on my skin, cooling me. Back then I loved the sun and the wind; it made me feel more alive.  
  
"Smeagol, I'm going down to the bank to have second breakfast." Deagol grinned and raced down to the bank of Gladden River. I was right behind him, my stomach rumbling with the idea of food.  
  
We sat down and opened up the basket, peering at what was inside. Wonderful sausages, bacon, biscuits, and bread. Look, even weed and two pipes. "I swiped these from my father." Deagol grinned, handing me one pipe.  
  
We had been smoking for months now, even though in Stoor society it was proper to start smoking when you come of age at 33. But Deagol and I weren't going to wait for that.  
  
I placed the pipe beside me, forgetting it until the food was gone. We both finished off the contents of the basket pretty quickly and laid back on the bank to enjoy a smoke on our stolen pipes.  
  
"Oh, I brought your birthday present." Deagol told me, handing a package, crudely wrapped. In Stoor society it was tradition for the birthday person to receive presents, unlike the other hobbit cultures, where it is opposite.  
  
"What is it?" I asked, shaking it, trying to figure out what it is.  
  
"Open it and see." Deagol urged as he puffed out two smoke circles.  
  
I ripped the package to discover a small book. I looked at it questioningly.  
  
"Open it!" Deagol urged me. Opening it, I let out an excited yelp. Inside there were maps of every known place in Middle-Earth.  
  
"Now we can continue our mischief all over Middle-Earth and never get lost." Deagol grinned at me.  
  
"It's a perfect gift, Deagol." I confirmed, not able to tear my eyes away from it. I turned the page and there was an extensive map of Gladden Field and the Gladden River. "There we are!" I said, pointing to a certain spot along the Gladden River.  
  
"We don't have too far to go then." Deagol said, pointing to the spot on the map where we planned to visit. Anduin River. Also known as the Great River of Wilderland. On my map they showed a number of it's tributaries; Celebrant, Entwash, Erui, Gladden, Geylin, Limlight, Morgulduin, Poros, and Sirith.  
  
"Come on, let's go!" Deagol urged me, tearing my attention away from my new birthday present. I got up and followed him for a few miles, the breeze cooling the hot sun. Finally we had wondered far enough down stream and came upon a much larger river. "Ah, River Anduin." He grinned at me.  
  
All the little hobbits were too afraid to go as far as the River Anduin, and we would always tell them scary stories to keep them away. We wanted to keep it our secret spot.  
  
I sat down beside the bank and put my feet in. That's as close as I got to the water unless I was in a boat. Deagol came up behind me.  
  
"You're not just going to sit there and soak your feet all day again, are you?" He asked, sounded disappointed.  
  
"It's my birthday, I can do what I want." I shot back at him, glaring over my shoulder.  
  
"Well, what should I do?" He asked, sounding board.  
  
My eyes surveyed the area and came to rest on a very old tree that was hanging over the River. "I dare you to climb that tree." I said, nodding towards the tree.  
  
"You're on." He grinned, dropped the basket, and ran over to the tree.  
  
I lost interest in what Deagol was doing as I pulled out my birthday present from my pocket and examined it. I wasn't sure how long I was engrossed in it, but suddenly I heard Deagol's voice.  
  
"Hey, Smeagol, look at me!" He cried.  
  
I looked up to discover he had climbed to one of the branches that was hanging far over the river.  
  
"I hope you fall." I called to him, and shaking my head I went back to reading.  
  
"I won't." He said, starting to jump on the branch, showing me it's stability.  
  
Then a large snap was heard and Deagol went splashing down into the water.  
  
  
  
"Deagol!" I cried, wading out into the water. Hobbits rarely knew how to swim.  
  
"Smeagol!" He replied, fighting to keep his head above water.  
  
"Let me go get a branch!" I said, and turned quickly around to look for one. When I returned with a long branch, Deagol's struggles to stay afloat had disappeared. He had sunk to the bottom. I searched the water alarmingly, and almost dived in after him until his surfaced once again, his hand in a fist.  
  
"Help!" He cried to me, and I obliged. He grabbed a hold of the branch and pulled his way up with one hand.  
  
I noticed this strange behavior and encouraged him to use both. He merely shook his head and struggled to make it to shore. He finally reached my arm length and I grabbed his free hand and dragged him to safety.  
  
He laid back, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. His hand that was clasped around something had now unfurled, and I peered closer to see what he had.  
  
It was golden and round.  
  
"And it was the first time I laid eyes on you, my preciousssss." I grinned, reaching out and stroking it softly. "Gollum, gollum." 


	3. Chapter 3

"What is that?" I asked, poking at the golden round thing that was in Deagol's hand.  
  
He shook his head, and waiting a few beats before answering. "It's a ring."  
  
"It's beautiful." I breathed. Something stirred within me, something scary. I felt like I had to have it. It was apart of me and I was apart of it.  
  
"I found it at the bottom of the river." He explained, sitting up. The feeling grew stronger as I stared at it longer.  
  
"C-can I see it?" I stuttered, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.  
  
"Why should I?" He asked me, grinning. I knew he was teasing me like he always did, but anger flared up deep inside me.  
  
"Because I asked to see it." I said, my tooth digging into my lower lip.  
  
"No, you can't." He snapped as he slipped the ring into his breast pocket.  
  
My heartbeat started to quicken, the feeling grew so strong. "You should give it to me, for a birthday present." I reasoned with him.  
  
"I already gave you your birthday present." He said, rolling his eyes. "Remember that book?"  
  
My anger reached a new level and I snapped. "Give it to me." I growled, making the gollum noise in my throat.  
  
"No way." He said, turning his back to me.  
  
"Don't turn your back to me, Deagol." I hissed in his ear, threatening him. The gollum noise was growing louder and louder in my throat.  
  
"Don't think you are going to frighten me with that.." Deagol said as he turned around and looked at me. I saw the realization in his eyes when he figured out I wasn't kidding.  
  
"No. I almost drowned, I found it, I should keep it." He said stubbornly and stood up.  
  
At that the feeling inside of me grew so strong I let out a scream of hate and tackled Deagol to the ground, pinning him there and snarling in his face.  
  
"Let me have it!" I demanded one last time.  
  
He shook his head, fear filling his eyes. "It's just a ring, Smeagol." He tried to reason with me, but by then I was beyond reasoning.  
  
I was at my last straw. My fingers found his neck and I started to squeeze. Deagol struggled in vain to be let go, but my anger fueled my physical strength. He writhed underneath me as I pressed harder and harder into his neck. He tried screaming for help, but had no air for I was squeezing all the life out of him.  
  
"There's no use struggling, Deagol. You will die and I will have my precioussss!" I hissed out the last word in his ear.  
  
"Such bravery and strength Smeagol had to kill the nasty hobbites!" I complimented myself.  
  
"No, no. Should not have killed him, should have stolen preciousss instead and run away." I argued.  
  
The story telling continued. He struggled and struggled, until I saw his face turn blue. His body relaxed, and I pushed into his neck harder just to be sure he was dead. His blank eyes stared up at me.  
  
And I laughed.  
  
I laughed at his stupidity. It was his fault he was dead, not mine. He wouldn't give me my precioussss. My fingers flew to his breast pocket and I grabbed the ring. I cradled it and joyfully danced with it. I had my precious, and it had me.  
  
I turned to the dead body of my best friend. "Stupid Deagol." I mocked him. "Stupid, stupid Deagol." I continued to dance with the ring. I stroked it and petted it. I cooed to it and sang to it. I made promises to love it and cherish it always.  
  
Then my eyes once again fell on Deagol's body. And the reality of what I just did finally set in on me.  
  
"Deagol? What have I done?" I asked out loud, kneeling by my friend.  
  
"Deserved it, he did. Stupid, fat hobbites!" I argued.  
  
"No, no!" I shook my head.  
  
"Now you have the precious and he doesn't." I laughed. Then I began to weep. It was a terrible noise to listen to, consisting of whistling and gurgling noises. My best friend was dead at my hand. The only person who would accept me in the Stoor society. Stupid Stoors! They should worship me, now I had the precious!  
  
I was jolted from my storytelling again.  
  
"Smeagol get along much better without stupid hobbites." I hugged myself. "Smeagol doesn't need anybody but the precious."  
  
"I miss my families." My lower lip started to quiver.  
  
"Your families betrayed you! Your grandmother banished you from the Gladden Fields and everything you loved." A smirk grew across my face. "Everything but the precious. Nobody knew about the precious."  
  
"Nobody did, and nobody will. Only I can have my precious." I reassured myself.  
  
"You murdered your best friend for it." I mocked myself.  
  
"No. He was stupid enough to have me do it." I tried to make myself feel better.  
  
"You murdered him, then you stole the precious from him!" I relentlessly hissed into my own ear.  
  
"I hate you." I hissed back, trying to block out the noise by putting my hands over my ears.  
  
"Thief. Murderer." I whispered slowly.  
  
Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I glanced at my precious, but it held no comfort for me.  
  
I then realized my precious didn't rely on me, but I relied on it tremendously. It was my life, but it could live without me.  
  
And that hurt. I began to sing a song I had thought up for myself in my darkest moments.  
  
Where once was light  
  
Now darkness falls  
  
Where once was love  
  
Love is no more.  
  
Don't say goodbye  
  
Don't say I didn't try  
  
These tears we cry  
  
Are falling rain  
  
For all the lies you told us The hurt, the blame  
  
And we will weep to be so alone  
  
We are lost we can never go home  
  
So in the end I'll be, what I will be  
  
No loyal friend was ever there for me  
  
Now we say goodbye  
  
We say you didn't try  
  
These tears you cry  
  
Have come too late  
  
Take back the lies  
  
The hurt, the blame  
  
And you will weep  
  
To face the end alone  
  
You are lost, you can never go home.  
  
I stared sadly at my precious, knowing I could never mean as much to it as it does to me. Emptiness filled my heart as the golden shining ring seemed to mock me with it's perfect features. I had no perfect features. The ring and I were exactly opposite. I once thought that I was the Master of the Ring. But slowly I realized it was the master over me.  
  
I shoved those depressing thoughts out of my mind as I tried to remember what I was doing before I was forced to tell that story again to myself.  
  
Oh yes. Breakfast. 


End file.
